The Words Wanted to Come Out
by singingsin
Summary: a fic from my prompt list. for monoxidegirl. AnndreaxDaryl, like my fav pairing from the Walking Dead! rated T to be safe. one shot.


She can't believe she left.

The figures in the her rearview mirror grow smaller as she plows through the open yard, walkers chasing her to no avail. She drives until all she can see behind her is an empty road. And when she's far enough away that she considers herself alone, she stops the car, letting it idle as she lets carefully hidden tears fall.

When she had found herself alone , all those months ago, walkers surrounding her and the farm burning, she didn't think she'd ever see her family again. Because that's what they really are in the long run, isn't it? The second family that took her in, kept her sane and safe after she lost Amy. She had accepted that she would never see any of them again, and tried to move on.

It hadn't come easily.

All of them were amazing, strong people. It's true, that she hadn't gotten along with all of them. She had clashed with other strong personalities. Lori. Maggie. Shane. Even well-tempered Hershel and Rick, who always tried to treat everyone with respect. But for the most part, she had come to love them.

Carol, so strong and capable, even after losing Sophia. Glenn, always ready to volunteer first. And Daryl.

A fresh wave of pain hits her.

Daryl. She'd had to bury him first, the deepest down, in a place in her heart where the light of day would never, ever reach.

She can't pin point exactly when she fell for Daryl. Somewhere between searching for Sophia and shooting him is the only kind of timeline she can formulate.

When she first met Daryl, he was hard. With Merle by his side, he was an impenetrable castle of anger and solitude. She didn't like him in the slightest. She hadn't cared at all when Merle had been left behind in Atlanta, although Daryl was a wreck. As far as she was concerned, he deserved it. That asshole had nearly killed them all. Rick hadn't helped either, but he had gotten her back to Amy at least.

Karma can be a bitch though.

Suddenly there she was, shooting her reanimated sister in the head, and wishing she hadn't thought such horrible things about someones sibling. She had always told Amy that karma didn't exist, but now, she had seen it up close and personal. Or at least that's the only thing she could think of, because there was no other valid reasoning behind snuffing out as brilliant a soul as Amy's had been. Now, Daryl was the only person she could relate to, and it was bitter to swallow, to say the least. He was the only one who didn't look at her with pity when it happened. Just a resolute nod, that acknowledged their shared experience. It made him slightly easier to deal with, although she still wasnt sure she liked him at that point.

The next interaction with Daryl came at the CDC.

She's not a hundred percent sure it even happened at all. Dinner had been eaten, and most of the group was tucked into bed, sleeping soundly for what must have been the first time since this whole apocalypse shitstorm went down. But there were a few of them still drinking. Daryl. Rick. Shane. Her.

She had a good buzz going, drinking straight from the bottle of wine, as Rick and Shane told stories about high-school, reminisced about woman and friends and funny incidents. Daryl, sitting a little off to himself, stayed characteristically quiet, part of the group, and yet apart as well, taking great gulps of whiskey every once in a while. Rick had stumbled to his feet, saying something about thanking the good doctor himself, and he'd disappeared. Shane followed shortly after, an odd look in his eyes, as he excused himself.

It was a bit awkward, being alone with Daryl. But it wasnt entirely uncomfortable. He broke the silence first.

"How ya doing? I mean, after Amy and everythin... I uh, heard ya in the shower earlier."

Her cheeks had grown warm, and she had glared at him.

"You make a habit of lurking outside showers?" she had said curtly

"N-no!" he sputtered, the whiskey making him slur a bit. "I just...I wanna make sure yer ok is all."

He had looked away, embarrassed, and she found herself smiling. The smile was unexpected. The fact that it was for Daryl, was new too. She had leaned over, placed her hand on his knee.

"I'm...not ok. But I will be. Hopefully."

He nodded at her brusquely, and she smiled even wider. Weird. She`d leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, his stubble scratching at her lips. He had jerked away, an astonished, wary look on his face.

"Thanks." she`d said softly, and left for bed, leaving Daryl alone with his whiskey.

The next morning, he didn't look at her any differently, so she couldn't be sure if it was a dream or real.

After the CDC incident, Daryl appeared to be trying his best to fit in with the group more, holding his tounge and dishing out clear opinions only when he deemed it necessary. Slowly, Daryl began to become a real person to the group, each of them bringing out a different piece of him from behind his castle walls. But in the end, it was Sophia who dragged the biggest part of Daryl to the front.

Right before she got lost, Sophia found a tattered old artbook. It was stained with blood, and dirt and who knows what else, but she managed to save a handful of precious white pages. Carl found her a half empty box of crayons in the backseat of an abandoned car, and Andrea would swear that the apocalypse wasnt going on for Sophia in those moments.

Sophia would climb into the RV, contentedly humming to herself as she drew pictures of everything and everyone. She was so determined to give everyone a picture, that Dale had to cut the paper into smaller squares, so she had enough. When she was drawing, Sophia was a completely different person, so happy and carefree. Everyone was happy when the kids were happy, and those were the happiest days she could remember since Amy's death.

Daryl had gone off hunting, and Andrea had decided to do his laundry for him. He was good about that, never letting the woman do it for him, always muttering that he could do it himself. But he had been working extra hard to feed everyone lately, constantly off in the woods shooting birds and squirrels, from dawn till dusk. She thought he deserved a little extra thank you.

She was emptying out the pockets of a pair of jeans, when she found it. A small, folded piece of paper. Confused, she unfolded it, and immediately recognized Sophia's handiwork. A picture of a little girl, holding on to a mans hand, a big heart drawn over their heads. `thank-you for keeping us safe`it said on the bottom, in a childs scribbled cursive. The girl had a blue shirt, and the man had a cross-bow, and in the picture they were both smiling.

"What you doing?" Daryls voice had broken the silence, making her jump, and reach for her gun.

" GOD! Don't do that Daryl! I could've shot you!" she nearly screamed at him, her heart racing.

"You going through my stuff?" he replied angrily.

"No! I was just doing the laundry...youve been so busy hunting, I thought you could use a break from other chores." she had said, contritely.

Daryl had seemed off put by this, apparently expecting her to deny or get defensive. He scratched his head, looking from the picture to her, and back to the picture.

"Can I have it back...please?" he said gruffly, and Andrea had handed it over.

"I like this picture. Makes me feel...good," he had shrugged bashfully, and turned to leave without any further word. She had washed the clothes extra hard that day, attempting to get all the blood out. An impossible task to take on, but worth the effort, she thought.

And then, all shit had broken loose.

Sophia was lost, and the group became despondent, frozen on the side of that road, waiting for a miracle. Daryl hoped the hardest. Looked the hardest. Tried the hardest.

He never stopped, even when she damn near killed him. Andrea can't ever forget the feeling of panic and despair when she realized, just a moment too late, that it was Daryl cresting that hill, not a walker.

She had run off into the woods and cried so hard, for so long, she had attracted a stray walker. She beat the ever-living shit out of it with a huge tree branch, just kept bring it down on its head over and over, even when it was clearly dead. She beat it into a stinky, bloody pulp, all her sorrow and guilt poured into every heave of the branch.

No one said anything when she emerged from the woods, hours later, covered in blood and dirt. They silently looked her over, made sure she was physically ok, without scratch or bite, but didn't approach her. Other than Dale, who didn't really make her feel any better.

That night, she was going to bring him dinner. He was cooped up in one of Herschel's spare rooms, too sore to move. But Carol beat her to it, much to her irritation, and she couldnt find an excuse to go up there. He moved himself out to a tent the next morning, saying being indoors was weird for him, and driving him crazy. He wanted to be outside, in the fresh air at least. She brought Daryl a book later in the day, as an apology. An opening to an apology really.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I feel like shit."

"You and me both," he had muttered

"...I don't expect you to forgive me. But if there's anything i can do..." she had offered.

"You were just protecting the crew. We're good." he had said, cracking an almost invisible smile. "But hey! You ever shoot me again, you best pray I'm dead."

Maybe that's when it hit her. That he was growing on her, and quickly. That when he smiled, even after she'd nearly killed him, she felt better, and her heart quickened in her chest.

The day they found Sophia was bad.

The look on his face when he saw her, shambling out of that barn...

Between him and Carol, her heart broke all over again that day. She thinks maybe, they all died a little inside, the entire group.

During the mess that followed the aftermath, he snuck away, moved his tent to the edge of the woods, effectively separating himself again. She found him staring at that picture, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. She didn't say anything. She knew nothing she said could ever make him feel better. To him, losing Sophia was the biggest failure, since letting Merle slip away in Atlanta.

Then came the night of the fire. Losing the group. She had almost given up, almost let the walkers catch up and just end it. For days she had run, not stopping to sleep or eat or even catch her breath. Finding Michonne, as lucky as it was, had been a terrifying experience.

The fierce woman helped her survive. Helped her find her will to live again. She has to admit, it wasn't always easy with Michonne. She was as hard as Daryl had been, but infinitely more so, because woman were worse when it came to trust. And Michonne was especially wary. But she lead her to Woodbury. And Phillip.

Phillip almost made up for losing Daryl. He was charming, and handsome. And he wanted her, which she couldn't prove that Daryl ever had. It was satisfying enough, having a warm body to press up to at night. Even if she did dream of it being Daryl, and not Phillip sometimes. And even if it meant losing Michonne... which she still isn't sure was worth it.

Finding Merle there was...weird. Painful. Just another reminder that Daryl wasnt there anymore. They ignored each other for the most part, him asking about Daryl, her telling him the truth; she didn't know, though she wished she did, almost more than he did. She didn't care if he believed her or not. That part of her life was buried deep, along with Amy, and her life before the dead came to back. She was adjusting to life in Woodbury. Things were different, but she was alive and that was good.

Everything was good.

Until it wasn't anymore.

Her family came back. But not for her, not that she blamed them. They thought she was dead. She took out a walker for Carol, they saw her go down. How could they know that she had been alive still? The thing that bothered her was how could they attack Woodbury? A place filled with innocent people? Once upon a time, this was the place they had searched for... wasn't it?

Things took a turn for the worse after the raid.

When Phillip took that bag off Daryls head, she thought it was a bad dream. A horrible nightmare, but she couldn't make it go away.

She was horrified. Daryl an enemy? No, that couldn't be right. It was Daryl after all! The man who'd cried for his brother. Risked his life for Sophia. Protected her and the others steadfastly. But if he was here what did that mean? Nothing good, Phillip all but shouted, at her. At the residents of Woodbury.

Ao many angry faces, so many people cheering for his death, and yet she was ecstatic. Daryl was alive! And right there in front of her. His face lit up with relief when their eyes met, and she wanted to run to him, but someone grabbed her, and pinned her arms down. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't get to him.

Torn. That was what she had been. Torn between her pat and present. She loved the safety and community of Woodbury, but this was a part of her family! And the bonds she made with them, with Daryl, couldn't be ignored as easily as she thought. When the smoke screen hit, she was relieved, and she felt bad for being relieved.

What to do now? Knowing that Daryl and possibly the other too, were ok was exhilarating. But Phillip viewed them as the threat that they weren't. She was walking a thin line. But she couldn't put them out of her mind. They were so close, just 5 miles away!

She couldn't resist. Had to know. Even if it meant breaking a rule or two, she needed to know.

Sneaking out was easier than she thought it would be, thanks to Milton. She knew Milton had probably been ordered by Phillip to help her. She probably couldn't have done it if he hadn't helped. It had been too easy to convince him too. Phillip wasnt exactly thinking straight lately. Not since his walker daughter had been slaughtered by Michonne. Finding all the heads in Phillips private room had disturbed her and thrown her off. She didn't completely trust him now, and he didn't completely trust her, so it wasnt surprising to her that Phillip would spy on her. He wanted to know where her loyalties laid. She got that.

The prison was in bad shape. Or at least, it was dismal to her. But she had gotten used to the comforts of Woodbury. Used to clean sheets and warm showers again, and food, and clean water, and protection. At Woodbury, it was all a given.

At the prison, it wasnt.

She wondered if she hadn't been separated, would she still be with them? Sleeping in her own cell? Or maybe sleeping in Daryls cell. The time she had gone without seeing him, hadn't changed her feelings for him. She thought maybe it would have. Maybe that her relationship with Phillip would have. But it hasn't.

When the rest of the group is discussing some issue, she slips into the cell that has to be his. His hideous poncho is thrown casually on the top bunk, and he's sitting on the bottom, cleaning his bow. They look at each other in silence.

"It's rude to come into someones space without asking," he had growled.

"I knew it was your room. Knew you'd be in here."

"How'd you know this was my room? Coulda been anyones."

"No, it couldn't have been. For one, it has the best view of the entire space. Perfect for constant watch duty. Second...," she points at his poncho.

He looks at her, deadpan for a moment, and then lets out a snort. A smile slips onto his face.

"Always too smart for your own good Andrea..." he stops wiping down a crossbow bolt, looks at her seriously, and her heat thumps unevenly. "I wanted to go back you know. Tried to convince them to let me go and get you. Even if you were... didn't want to just leave you there, food for some walker."

She didnt expect those words. She holds her hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes. To her, this is as good as a confession. He cares about her in some capacity. All the possibilities, wasted because of a cruel twist of fate. She wants to tell him, confess that she loved him then. That she thinks she still loves him now. That since she saw his face at Woodbury, her world has been flipped upside down, because she can't stop thinking about him. The words are there, filling her mouth, choking her. But she can't say them. She can't say the words, although the words wanted to come out.

Daryl just looks at her, as if he knows, his eyes piercing her, waiting.

Her biggest regret to date.

She says nothing. She just turns around and leaves, because she can't bear for him to see her cry.

Goodbyes are handed out like food when she leaves. Precious, and nourishing. She mourns all over again. Honestly, if she's to be truthful to herself, she doesn't want to leave them. But she has other responsibilities now too. A whole town full of people who rely on her, now that Phillip has withdrawn to his apartment.

She thinks maybe they too, wish that she could stay. But it doesn't feel right. Like there still something keeping her, and them, from picking up where they left off. They give her a car, though they probably can't spare it. A full pack, and even an extra gun. there's not a chance in hell they can afford to part with it, or the ammo. And yet they insist.

She looks at them, her broken family. This is different from the last time, but it hurts just the same. Who knows if this is the last time she'll see them.

The figures in her rearview mirror grow smaller as she drives away, and she leaves a piece of her heart there with them this time.

Her eyes stay on the man with the crossbow, whom she's sure almost loves her, and whom she almost definitely loves back.

She can't believe she left.


End file.
